A Light in the Tunnel
by aries-angel12
Summary: Two years after the Battle of Hogwarts, George writes a letter to his twin and while doing so, his world changes.


**Title:** A Light in A Tunnel  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 925 words.  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> The s-word is mentioned once. And a t word. According to _easy A_, anyway.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> George writes to Fred.

Fred.

It's been two years. Already. Time flies when you're having fun and evidently it flies when you're in grief too. Grief and a mess of politics and a mess of business because people need laughter to bring them completely out of dark times and evidently we weren't the only ones who thought having fireworks at our funeral was a good idea, but it was always supposed to be ours and not yours. You'll be pleased to know that we're all moping around in your honour at home, even though Harry, Ron and Hermione are doing their seclusion thing again, though Teddy keeps toddling upstairs. Mum and Andromeda have drunk so much tea today. We had the service at Hogwarts this morning, and I ran into Angelina – again, you say? She's chatting with Charlie about Quidditch now, actually, sitting next to me. Don't start, Freddie, it's not entirely like that. You would be shocked to know I haven't shagged her yet, though you'd be even more shocked to know how many girls really are down for a pity he's lost his ear and his brother and he's an entrepreneur shag. It wouldn't shock you either to see how beautiful Fleur is, either. 8 months pregnant and she's glowing away, even if she has tear stains down her cheeks and she's been touching her belly all day – evidently the Weasley-to-be is a partier, or Fleur's just being a protective mum. I miss you. I'll always miss you, but sometimes it hits harder. Like now, we'd be teasing Fleur out of the grimace she's wearing, or you'd be provoking Percy for the amount of Firewhisky in his glass and how he's a big boy now, got himself a girlfriend and all, he can have more than a shot in his water glass, fill 'er up now, Perce. It's no fun on your own. I really wish you could see Teddy, too. He's been a little beacon as much as Angelina has, even if most of it is from watching Ron avoid nappy duty – he's well practiced for Bill and Fleur, not that they've told anyone what they're having, it's driving Mum mental so she's knitting all these white booties while groaning about the impracticality of the dirt and all and huh, Fleur's practically screeching something in French at the moment at Bill, not that you can really call it screeching when she's that hot, and let's face it, Bill couldn't have picked anyone better looking, though no doubt Lee would say Ange was, but come on, Ange is hot and all, but a Veela is what brother dearest landed himself with, and even though I've drunk more than my share of Firewhisky, you can't blame me, Freddie, really, I haven't spilt it all over me like Bill's just done, and Fleur's standing up now and it looks like she's just wetted herself Fred, Merlin, the jokes you'd be making at the look on Mum's face now, come on Mum, we've only had the couch for thirty years, it's not a priceless heirloom, doubt I'd know what one looked like.

Oh, shit, Fred, Fleur's gone into labour.

- G

PS. Back from St Mungo's now, and I'm writing this as I sit before your gravestone. Merlin, that's morbid. But we've got a niece, Fred. Bill's got himself a daughter who's a bit Veela, Merlin, can you imagine the face he'll have when he meets her first boyfriend? But anyway, our niece is Victoire. She's the cutest little thing, all soft strawberry blonde hair and these big blue eyes – sobered me right up, just looking at her red screaming face, but Fleur told me to pick her up and she stopped crying, just like that. She wouldn't go to anyone else until she fell asleep, Freddie, and you'd love her to pieces. Just like I do. I'm already tossing around ideas of what to get her for her birthday – it's never too long away, you know that, but I'm looking forward to the day when it'll be three years since you're gone. This little girl's gone and stolen my heart with one bat of her eyes, Fred, and I'm going to spoil her rotten. I've only gone through a couple of bottles of Firewhisky, and that was in toasts and I feel like that was the step. I still love you and miss you and Merlin damned it hits me harder sometimes then it ever did before, but I can't keep wishing you were still here. You wouldn't want me to do that in the first place and I just dug myself this hole and I think I'm maybe taking the first steps out of it, Fred. I can't ever forget you – you're the nose on my face, after all, but I feel like maybe I can let you go a little. You're my shadow, Fred, just as I was to you and how we were to each other. You're never gonna be gone, Fred, but I feel like I can maybe stand in the shade and though you won't be there with me, you're here in my heart. I love you, Fred, and I miss you too.

Love, your twin,

George.

PPS. Found your invention book yesterday. You twat. A little black book of shags is not an invention book and you hid it in an inventive place on purpose.

PPPS. Does kissing Angelina on the cheek in celebration of hearing that Bill and Fleur had a safe and healthy baby girl count as a move, or not?


End file.
